You are alone. Dreaming?
Standing on a dark dull land.
There is nothing
No light, no time.
There is no wind, no sound.
Nothing.
Then a breath.
Quiet and loud.
The light is blinding. A sun.
A feminine scream. Or a laugh?
The land blushes green and trees explode from beneath.
Mountains crash towards the sky.
The sky. With clouds rolling and tumbling.
Rolling like the hills. Lightning.
High above the furious sea.
A sound. Many. Voices both human and not.
A breath. A birth. A world.
A captivating and mesmerizing write that deserves member Poem of the Day.
i really like this one, sorta mysterious.
The Big Bang theory and Genesis all in a poem..I read several of your other poems, too.Congratulations on your member poem of the day....
Heart warming poem. It gives the reader plenty of opportunity to use their imagination. A well written piece of poetry. Congratulation for getting recognition for the day.
A wonderful poem Stephanie.Congratulations on being member of the day Col Muhammad khalid Khan
Clever commixture of creation and birth visuals. Is this firmament upon which I stand, or placenta? Vividly executed and engaging in presentation. Bravo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't get it. Who is the you, the very first word in this poem, the pre-existing, the pre-conceived, the pre-figured you? Me, the reader? All alone? Well, okay if that's what it takes to suspend disbelief and get into your narrative of creation. Dreaming? Okay, maybe. Standing on a dark dull land? Alone, anonymous, still familiar but firmament, but without distinction or form, outside of time, outside of visible discernment. In fact, outside all existence, there is nothing, no sensations impinge on me. Only an amorphous kind of a cartesian ideational recognition. Then a breath. The cartesian duality of mind and body brought to bear. The senses are blinked on. An otherness is heard. Or is it only the self, feminine, creative? And then all of physical existence as we commonly know it comes crashing out of the empty verses. Out of the original you? Me? Begetter of a multitude? Progenitor of all there is? This is certainly not my experience. In reality or in dream time. Unless... Unless the reference is to my own prehistoric truth. Surprisingly, not the moment of conception, of fertilization, of a cellular miracle. Something much later. The physical entry into life with that first independent breath outside the womb, into the light, the mother's final pained exertion still vibrating in the air, changing to a sort of joyful mirth. Okay, so maybe I do get it. Sorry for having to think this one out loud through my fingertips. The abstraction, the surrealism, the romantic flourishes of landscape and compaction of time all mixed together overcame my critical faculties. I floundered. But now, maybe, I have found the light.